IT WAS TIME to say goodbye to Adam.
As Veronica and I entered his camp for the last time, I wondered if he would recognize me. The tents were gone, everything packed, leaving not a single trace of Adam’s stay. Cecil and Claudia sat in a head-to-head huddle, deep in muffled conversation, so occupied with each other that they failed to acknowledge our presence.
Anne, in contrast, looked relieved to see us. She waved us over. “They’ve been like that all morning. You’d think they just united after years of separation. “Anyway, if you’re looking for Adam, Marjorie, he’s in the grotto.”
Was she trying to get rid of me?
She turned to Veronica. “Okay, out with it. Is it true that the DEA instills fear in physicians, concerning how they treat their patients and what they prescribe?”
I’d been dismissed.
“Don’t worry,” Veronica said when she caught me frowning. “We’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t worried, just miffed. But I could take a hint.
Adam sat in the center of his evacuated grotto, arms resting on raised knees. His hair was trimmed, his face clean-shaven, thanks to Cecil this time instead of Brock. Brock’s employment as Adam’s personal care aide had come to an end. And not a moment too soon, according to Anne. After Adam’s return from the care facility, he’d become even more averse to water. Washing and showering had turned into a battle. Though Brock and Adam had forged a companionable relationship, the assignment had stretched Brock’s resources to the limit, and he was eager to move on to a less challenging position.
Adam’s clothing appeared to have materialized straight out of a Banana Republic catalog. He looked like a normal, well-outfitted camper. Except for the vacant stare.
I sat next to him. He glanced my way, then looked back at the barren circle his grotto had become. Hawks called to one another as they perched in the sycamores, alders, and redwoods that encircled the pond—from which Adam was now keeping a guarded distance. Apparently, the water spilling from the outcropping of rock and trickling into the pool no longer evoked in him the peace and tranquility it once had.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, my mind settling into a waking-dream state. Spirit surrounded us; I sensed It everywhere. So, I appealed to It for Adam. Please God, help Adam in his final journey.
Adam touched his fingers to mine. I turned my hand over, palm up, and he clasped it.
The words Adam had written in the final pages of his journal returned to me as though carried on the whiff of perfumed air coming from the wild flowers interspersed between the shrubs and ferns.
The last thing I’ll lose is love. I may forget people’s names, where I am, and what I’m doing, but I will remember love.
Buster rested his furry head on our joined hands.
~~~
Anne swept raised arms over the vacant camp. “All is ready. Accept what is.”
For me, it wasn’t that easy. I’d never had many friends, never made the effort, never felt the need. But now I felt as if part of me were leaving. Anne would say it was the part of me I’d given her as a gift, making room for what I was still to become.
She pressed a ring of keys into my hand. “I own a home in Pacific Grove where you’re headed. The house is kind of...” She shook her head as if lost for words. “It’ll be a good home base for meeting with your father.”
The assortment of keys jingled as I inspected them. Not tokens of power or possession. Not something to hoard or tie one down. But a gift meant to be shared and enjoyed.
“Stay as long as you like,” she said. “As a matter of fact, keep the keys for whenever you’re in the area, which I hope will be often.” She looked at Veronica, and her face softened. “We’re sisters now. What’s mine is yours.”
A home in Pacific Grove. I squelched the questions that threatened to ruin the moment. Accept with gratitude and generosity. It’s part of the plan. Her generosity was beyond comprehension. I didn’t know what to say.
“Actually, you’ll be doing me a favor,” Anne said, “sort of like house-sitting. The key to the art studio in Monterey is on the ring as well, in case you feel the urge to play some more with clay. And my closets... They’re packed to the hilt with clothes that’ll fit you both, many with the tags still attached. I’d love to know you were wearing them.”
All those clothes. Questions again sprang to mind: Where’d she get the money, the clothes, the house? Again, I squelched them. They would be answered in time.
We hugged. I sniffed in Anne’s ear.
“Stop it,” she said. “That tickles.”
I sprang back. “Sorry.”
A smile from Anne. “You’re expressing emotion. See how far you’ve come?”
True, my emotions were flowing more freely now, if not at full force. All these years of storing them up—as if releasing them would amount to bleeding—had taken their toll. I glanced at Veronica. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Tears? Talk about coming far.
She reached for Anne’s hand.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Anne said, pulling her into a bear hug.
Cecil had likened my sister and me to two sides of a coin, one side dark, the other light. I, instead, envisioned a coin imprinted with Janus the Roman god of two faces, one face looking backward, the other face looking forward, both on the same side of the coin. What appeared on the other side would, for now, remain a mystery.
I thought of my father, the man I was about to meet in Pacific Grove, and felt my heart contract. Could Veronica and I uncover and live with his secret? Could we release our dark yesterdays and uncertain tomorrows and open to the avenues and surprises that lay in the light of the present? Or would we remain stuck in our private worlds, ruled by our own narrow perceptions, sealed from the hidden meanings of life?
I put my arms around my two sisters, confident that it was the former rather than the later.
With love, anything was possible.